


Echo of the Flame

by EllerienSylvani



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Family, Romance, Spoilers, Violence, sad dad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-07-29 13:22:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7686112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllerienSylvani/pseuds/EllerienSylvani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only reminder she has of her old life is a destroyed home, a robotic butler, and the wedding ring she'd pried from her husband's cold, dead hand. She's trying to find her son, and she needs all the help she can get. MacCready has been battling with his own conscience for years, and now he feels he's at his breaking point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Why the hell would anyone build a Vault out of a subway station, anyway? This place is like… the opposite of air-tight.”

  
“Because they weren’t planning to use it, you moron. We used to pull this kind of con all the time back before the war.”

  
Ramona, awkwardly crouched behind a stack of rusted Vault-Tec crates, peered around the corner to catch a glimpse of the two Triggermen guarding the hallway. With her bright blue vault suit, she could hardly blend in anywhere, but luckily the gangsters didn’t seem to be taking their job too seriously. A few steps behind her, Dogmeat sniffed the air tentatively and gave an anxious whine.

  
“Shh. Stay back, boy,” she whispered, holding up her hand, palm facing the dog so that he would stay put. “I’ll take care of this one, Dogmeat.” The dog wagged his tail excitedly, making no sound, and Ramona turned her attention back to the Triggermen standing just a few feet away in the hall.

  
“Get a bunch of union boys to work some construction job that would go nowhere. Keep everyone on payroll.” The words were his last, as Ramona had pulled the pin from a frag grenade and frantically tossed it in between the two gangsters, who were too engrossed in their conversation to notice the woman only a few paces behind them. They were both knocked to the floor from the explosion, one of the men lying still and dead on the cold Vault floor. The other one, the ghoul, crawled towards her in a deathly rage, one of his legs partially blown off from the explosion. Under her mask, Ramona’s face contorted in disgust at the sight, but before he could reach her, she gave him a quick shot through the head with her ten millimeter pistol.

  
She felt it again. Since she had come into this new, broken world, nearly every sight was a fresh new addition to that ever-growing mountain of horrors in the back of her mind. Before the bombs dropped, she had never seen such grisly sights as dead two-headed cattle rotting on the side of the road, or bloody bags of flesh hung from buildings all across Boston, dripping with gore and god knows what else. She didn’t want to know. Before, she never had to deal with such horrors in person. Being a defense attorney, she of course was aware that murder and mayhem happened occasionally (save for two-headed cattle… that was a surprise), but witnessing them in person was not the same as discussing them in a courtroom. One cannot accurately describe the stench of death with any words that exist in any language, but they can never forget it, either.

  
She was just going to have to get used to these new horrific regularities, difficult as it may be. Recoiling from the dangers of this world would mean losing her son forever, and there was no way in hell Ramona was going to let that happen. She reached into the small pocket in the front of her Vault jumpsuit, feeling for the cold metal of her husband’s wedding ring, making sure it was still safe inside. Ever since she had woken up, she couldn’t stop feeling for it, making sure that it was still there.

  
“Come on boy, let’s go find us a detective,” she said quietly, not looking back to see if the dog would follow. She knew that he would. Since Ramona had found him by that old gas station, he seemed all too eager to follow her, always being gentle and playful and surprisingly tenacious in combat. Honestly, the German Shepherd might be the only reason she had survived thus far; Dogmeat had pulled her out of a pinch in combat on more than one occasion.

  
After the noise died down and she had taken a minute to recover, Ramona crept forward from her cover along the hallway, trying to ignore the scattered bits of brain on the ground and listening for any more voices. Tentatively, she opened the sealed sliding door at the end of the hall and clung to the wall, ready for any attackers, but she was instead met with darkness. This next room looked like some sort of construction area, filled with metal railings and piping and dig sites. Ramona tiptoed along the railing, keeping low and looking for any patrolling Triggermen, Dogmeat trailing behind quietly.

  
The room was filled with blinding spotlights, so it was easy to keep out of the Triggermen’s sights as long as she stayed away from the light. The gangsters patrolling there must have been either too drunk or too stupid, because it wasn’t too difficult to sneak past them and into the storage area.

  
Ramona’s feet ached. It had felt like hours of sneaking through this old Vault, and still she had found no trace of the detective. How ironic it was- she couldn’t help but think- that she had been tasked with investigating the disappearance of a detective, of all things. It would seem that this new world of nuclear Boston always had another curveball to throw her- and now gallivanting around downtown Boston in search of Nick Valentine, the man who would help her find her missing baby, was no exception. Despite her aching feet, Ramona trudged on through the cluttered hallways, determined to find the detective. The people of Diamond City had seemed to speak very highly of him, and so she was curious as to the sort of man he was, how a detective could gain so much favor even in this nuclear hellhole that was the Commonwealth.

  
When she came across another goddamn sliding door, probably leading to another goddamn empty hallway, Ramona almost ran through the doorway, but froze in place when she heard a voice from across the room.  
“How you doing in there, Valentine? Feeling hungry?”

  
Nick Valentine! She had found him! Ramona stood quietly in the doorway, peering over to the direction she’d heard the voice. A Triggerman seemed to be standing on the top level of the Vault’s atrium, speaking to the detective through a large, circular window. On the other side of the window, she could just barely make out another figure, staring back at the Triggerman on the other side. Back before the war, she had seen enough advertisements about the Vaults to know that that was the window to the Overseer’s office. Probably the most secure place in the entire Vault, damn it. No wonder the gangsters had thrown him in there. Ramona strained her ears to continue listening to their conversation while silently creeping around the side of the room, pistol drawn steadily. As far as she could tell, it was only the one Triggerman, so she was going to get the drop on him if she could, while getting as much background on this ‘Valentine’ as she could.

  
“Keep talking, meathead! It’ll give Skinny Malone more time to think about how he’s going to bump you off!”

  
Ramona chuckled at the detective’s words, immediately getting the impression that this Valentine was a man of words. Being a lawyer before the war, Ramona had quickly come to realize out here that some charismatic words and charm could seriously get her out of a risky situation just as much as a gun and some combat armor.

  
The Triggerman scoffed at his words. “Don’t gimme that crap, Valentine. You know nothing, you got nothing,” he snapped, but Ramona could tell from her experience in a courtroom that the gangster’s confidence was waning. His shoulders had stiffened slightly and he had taken on a defensive stance, a clear indication of the man’s tension.

  
“Really? I saw him writing your name down in that black book of his. ‘Lousy, cheating, card shark’ I think were his exact words. Then he struck the name across… three times,” spat back Valentine, giving off nothing but poise and self-assurance. Ramona couldn’t help but to grin at Valentine’s dramatic description, aligning the barrel of her pistol with the Triggerman’s head. His panic had clearly set in by now, he had taken several steps back and his expression was that of serious distress.

  
“Three strikes? In the black book? But- but I never… Oh no… I gotta smooth this over, fast!” The Triggerman made a move to run off, but Ramona had already pulled the trigger, a swift shot to the head killing him instantly. The Triggerman’s body fell to the floor, and Dogmeat lightly padded over to inspect the corpse while Ramona rushed to the terminal.

 

“Hey, you!” cried Valentine. “I don’t know who you are but we’ve got three minutes before they realize muscles-for-brains ain’t coming back. Get this door open!”

  
She didn’t need to be told twice. After a quick inspection of muscle-for-brains’ pocket, she found a small slip of paper with the password to the terminal and had the door open in seconds. “Got it!” she cried excitedly, eager to meet the detective who was going to help her get her son back.

  
Ramona rushed urgently into the dimly lit office to see… well, not what she expected. Where there was supposed to be a man, she saw a dark figure walking slowly towards her, clothed rather shabbily in an old patched up trench coat and a fedora. His demeanor was cool and casual, without a hint of urgency that would be expected of someone just freed after weeks of confinement. Under the brim of his fedora, all she could see was mechanical, bright yellow eyes peering at her, sending a startled jolt right down Ramona’s spine. Before she could stop herself, Ramona gaped at him, earning a chuckle from Valentine.

  
“Not what you were expecting, huh? Gotta love the irony of the reverse damsel-in-distress scenario. Question is, why did our heroine risk life and limb for an old private eye?” He calmly lit a cigarette as he spoke, his right hand just a metal, skeletal structure of what a normal hand should be. The flame illuminated his face, and Ramona couldn’t help but to stare. His skin… if you could call it that, was peeling on various places- a dingy yellowish grey. The left side of his face and part of his neck was broken open, revealing a mechanical skeleton inside, making up his bodily structure.

  
“What… what are you?” Ramona had seen humans, and ghouls, but talking, walking robots? This was just another curveball on her current curveball, she couldn’t help but think.

  
He took a drag from the lit cigarette, catching her attention. Ramona had never seen a robot smoke before, with all the practiced flow of any other human that had been smoking for years. He was a robot- but still, he made it look so natural. “Nick Valentine, synth detective. But that doesn’t answer my question- why did you and your pup here go through all of this trouble to cut me loose?”

  
Ramona sighed, looking to the floor for a moment, where Dogmeat was excitedly sniffing at Nick’s shoes, and turned her eyes back to Valentine. “My baby boy is missing… his name is Shaun. He was kidnapped, but I don’t know who took him, or where they went. I’ve been told that you were the best person to help me find him.”

  
“A missing kid, huh? Well, you came to the right man. If not the right place. I’ve been cooped up in here for weeks, now. Turns out, the runaway daughter I came to find wasn’t kidnapped. She’s Skinny Malone’s new flame, and she’s got a mean streak.”  
Ramona piqued an eyebrow, and Valentine shook his head. “Anyway, you’ve got troubles, and I’m glad to help, but now ain’t the time. Let’s blow this joint, and then we’ll talk.”

  
She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. This man…robot, was like a walking, talking noir detective novel, plus he was- what did he say- a synth? Ramona hadn’t expected the world to be exactly the same after taking a 210 year-long nap, but this was just weird.

  
Nick Valentine gave her a quick nod and then jogged out of the room, gesturing for Ramona to follow. “Malone’s crew here used to be small time,” he told her as they walked, “muscled out of the old neighborhood by bigger players. Until they found this place.” Ramona only half listened to him as she stared at his back, following him through the winding hallways of the Vault.

  
“Hold up,” whispered Valentine, stopping in his tracks. Ramona had been so thoughtlessly trailing behind him that she’d almost slammed right into his back. He turned around to look at her, his cold yellow eyes boring into her. She couldn’t help but to feel a little unsettled by his appearance, but Valentine paid her odd expression no mind. He had grown used to the confused stares of Diamond City’s newcomers over the years- hell, he’d even had a gun pulled on him once or twice before, for no reason other than that he was a synth. Here from the Institute, they always cried in anger, to spy on them and their families.

  
“There’s some of them out there,” he told her, keeping his voice low so as to remain undetected. “How do you want to play this?” Unable to tear her gaze away from the detective’s eyes, Ramona drew her pistol, glanced at the gun in her hands, and gave him a quick nod, wanting to get the hell out of this Vault as quickly as she could. Understanding, he nodded back to the woman, drawing his own gun as well.

  
She immediately plunged into battle, taking out as many of the Triggermen as she could before they noticed what was going on. Nick Valentine noticed right away her tight, untrained clutch on the grip of her pistol and the way she carelessly left herself exposed while the gangsters were shooting at her. Whoever this woman was, she was very new at gunfights, and it showed. She was lucky that the Triggermen were little more than a group of disorganized gangsters, or else she’d likely be dead. Luckily, Nick knew his way around a gunfight, and was able to cover her. If this woman was in a gunfight with a couple of Gunners, Nick thought, she would probably not make it out alive. Even though he’d just met her, Nick grimaced at the thought.

  
Come to think of it, she was a stark contrast to the rest of this world. Her skin was perfectly clear, not a single blemish or scar anywhere that he could see. That in itself was almost unheard of in the Commonwealth- everyone had some sort of scar or blemish, if not radiation damage. Her deep auburn hair was wound up in a perfect updo, and even her makeup reminded him of the women from the old Nick’s day, back before the war. Nowadays, the only reminders he had of pre-war women were from the pretty pinup girls on the old Nuka-Cola posters. She had an otherworldly appearance about her- that was for sure.

  
The two of them plus Dogmeat were able to clear the rest of the Triggermen fairly easily, and they were soon able to corner Skinny Malone himself at the exit of the subway station. When they found Skinny, the gang boss seemed to be waiting for them. He was dressed quite dapperly in a tuxedo, the ‘kidnapped’ daughter standing with him wearing an equally dapper dress. Paired with the baseball bat she was threateningly wielding, it really made for quite the look. Behind them, two Triggermen had their guns trained on Ramona and Valentine as soon as they stepped in the room.

  
“Nicky? What’re you doin’? You come into my house. Shoot up my guys. You have any idea how much this is gonna set me back?”

  
Nick scoffed. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your two-timing dame, Skinny. You ought to tell her to write home more often.”

  
“Awww… poor little Valentine,” the woman cooed, thumping the bat against her palm with a grin. “Ashamed you got beat up by a girl? I’ll just run back home to daddy, shall I?”

  
“Should’ve left it alone, Nicky,” Skinny said. “This ain’t the old neighborhood. In this Vault, I’m king of the castle, you hear me? And I ain’t lettin’ some private dick shut us down now that I finally got a good thing goin’!”

  
The woman pouted, clearly impatient to bash the synth’s face in with her bat. Ramona looked hesitantly between Skinny and Valentine, trying to figure out how she could either talk or shoot her way out of this situation. Talk, preferably. “I told you we should’ve just killed him, but then you had to get all sentimental! All that crap about the ‘old times’.”

  
“Darla, I’m handling this!” snapped Skinny. “Skinny Malone’s always got things under control!”

  
“Oh yeah?” Darla challenged. “Then what’s this lady doing here, huh?” Valentine must have brought her here to rub us all out!” she screeched, gesturing wildly with her bat towards Ramona.

  
Ramona sighed. She had stayed behind Valentine, trying to avoid drawing too much attention to herself but it was nearly impossible with her bright blue Vault suit. She really had to get a more covert outfit. “That wasn’t the plan originally,” Ramona quipped, “But hey, tempting.”

  
Darla sneered, and she heard a sigh from Valentine. Probably not the best choice of words, because Skinny looked to be even more pissed off than before.

  
“Hey hey, I’m the one in charge here!” he snapped at Ramona. “You got something to say, you say it to me!”

  
Wanting to avoid another gunfight, Ramona put on her best lawyer-voice and faced him. “Come on Skinny, this is all just a big misunderstanding. You let me and Valentine walk, and we won’t come back. You have our word.”

  
Skinny’s face turned redder than a tomato. “You and Nick shoot all of my crew, and you expect to just-“ He paused, taking a deep breath. “Ugh… alright. You’re lucky that I still owe him for that time back in the quarry. I’m gonna give you two until the count of ten, before I forget my good manners and start shootin’ up the place!”

  
They didn’t need to be told twice. Nick grabbed Ramona’s wrist and pulled her forward before she could react, looking for the nearest exit to above ground. As they jogged away from the scene, Ramona could hear Skinny and Darla arguing heatedly behind them.

  
As soon as they were aboveground, Ramona breathed a sigh of relief. It was just after 11:00 pm, according to the time widget on the bottom right corner of her Pip-Boy’s screen. When she had entered Park Street Station, it had been late afternoon. She’d only spent a few hours in there, but it had felt like days. If Valentine had been in there for weeks like he’d said, it must’ve been hell.

  
“Ah, look at that Commonwealth sky,” drawled Nick from behind Ramona, as if reading her thoughts.

  
Never thought anything so naturally ominous could end up looking so inviting…” He stared upward, taking in the surprisingly clear sky, and Ramona followed his gaze. She was surprised how clear the night sky had been when she had woken up from cryosleep, how many more stars she could see, shining clear and bright. Without any factories producing pollution for the past 200 years, and the lack of civilization in general, she supposed it made sense that the sky would be clearer.

  
“Thanks for getting me out,” Nick said, turning back to her. Once again, Ramona found herself drawn to those bright yellow eyes, but now instead of alarming, it was almost comforting to meet his gaze. She didn’t know why he was all mechanical and made of metal, but this Nick Valentine was a good man, she knew. She could tell. “How did you know where to find me, anyway? Not many people knew where I went…”

  
“Your secretary, Ellie. She sent me.”

  
“She did? Damn. I should give her a raise. Anyway… you never introduced yourself.” She took a seat on the cool ground for a moment, thankful for the chance to rest her feet after several long hours of sneaking around the Vault. She dug around in her pack for a moment, searching for a snack to toss to Dogmeat. Nick offered her a cigarette, which she gratefully accepted.

  
“I’m Ramona Cooper, and this here is Dogmeat,” she said, gesturing to the dog who was now hungrily feasting on a brahmin steak. “You got a light?”

  
Nick nodded, crouching down and leaning forward to her outstretched hand, the cigarette suspended loosely between her fingers. “Quite a pup, you’ve got yourself. Dogmeat here seems pretty capable,” Nick said. Dogmeat wagged his tail feverishly in response. He pulled a flip lighter from his pocket, and lit another for himself. “Now, you mentioned something about your son, Shaun, and how he went missing.”

  
Ramona’s eyes darted up to his as he said Shaun’s name. Honestly, she was surprised that he had remembered the boy’s name, even through all that chaos back there.

  
“I want you to come to my office in Diamond City. Give me all the details. Besides, I think you’ve earned a chance to sit down and clear your head.”

  
Taking a long drag, Ramona breathed out the smoke with a sigh. She stood, nodding slowly. “We’d better head to Diamond City then.”

  
“Of course. Follow my lead and let’s try not to attract too much attention.” He paused, dropping the cigarette and extinguishing it under his shoe. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Cooper.”

  
“Ramona,” she correctedly quickly, shoving away the memories that the title brought back. She paused for a second. “It seems like you and that Skinny Malone guy had some sort of history,” she said simply, curious.

  
“Just an old rivalry,” Nick replied. “Suppose I’m lucky. If I were anyone else, he would have ordered his men to take care of me on sight.” He chuckled. “Having a mug as distinctive as this one has its benefits, it would seem.”  
Ramona smiled, shaking her head. She couldn’t help but warm to this eccentric detective.

  
With that, they started the long trek back to Diamond City.

  
-

  
When they made it back into Diamond City, it was well into the early morning, nearly half past 3:00, but sleep was the furthest thing from Ramona’s mind. The bright, neon lights of the marketplace were inviting after several hours of being cooped up in the dark subway station, but she was grateful when Nick didn’t make any stops on the way back to his office. There were a few guards on patrol around the marketplace, some of them looking up suspiciously at them, but relaxing when they saw it was only Valentine. Ramona thought that one of the guards seated at the robotic Takahashi’s noodle restaurant had looked straight at her, but he had been wearing sunglasses, so she couldn’t be sure. She briefly wondered why the guard would be wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night, but she shook the thought away and continued to follow Nick back to the9. Despite his odd appearance, Nick Valentine’s friendly and helpful nature had greatly soothed her nerves, and she was beginning to appreciate his presence.

  
As soon as they stepped inside, Ramona could see that Nick Valentine blended right in with his surroundings. Before when she had just spoken to Nick’s secretary, the place had seemed so empty. Now with the detective back in his rightful place, it all felt much more complete.

  
“Ellie? Are you here?” he called out to the empty office.

  
“Nick?!” came a cry from upstairs. Ellie Perkins stopped whatever she was doing and nearly tumbled down the stairs in her astonishment. “Oh god, it’s really you!”

  
Nick laughed warmly. “Well, it’s hard to mistake this old mug for anyone else.”

  
Ellie shook her head, just smiling. “You keep laughing at death, some day, death’s going to laugh back.”

  
Not as long as I’ve got a few friends to back me up,” he said, nodding towards them both. Ramona couldn’t help but smile with them.

  
Nick invited her to sit at the armchair across from his desk, and Ellie insisted on giving Ramona a few caps for helping get Nick back.

  
“Oh no, please keep your caps, Ellie! I’m just grateful that Nick is willing to help me find my son.”

  
Ramona took the seat opposite from Nick at his desk, observing him in clear light for the first time. She couldn’t help but study his face. His eyes were two rings of bright yellow, clearly made to resemble a human iris. Besides his strange eyes, pallor, and the damage on his face revealing the inner machinery, Ramona wouldn’t be able to tell that he wasn’t human. He seemed so kind, and… lifelike.

  
“So… how much do you charge for your services, Mr. Valentine?”

  
He sighed. “If you’re not going to accept a reward, then with my help in finding your son, consider us even. No charge. Now, tell me everything you can about what happened, no matter how… painful it might me.”

  
He had jumped right into business and so had Ellie, taking up a clipboard to jot down any notes from their session. She didn’t have time to thank Nick for his generosity before all the memories from just a few days ago came rushing back to her.  
“We were in a Vault when it happened…” she said, gesturing to the bright blue Vault suit she wore, the numbers ‘111’ stamped on her back in bright gold lettering. “Vault 111. It was some kind of… cryo facility. When the bombs started going off, we went underground and the Vault-Tec staff said they were taking us to these decontamination pods, but they just put us in some sort of cryosleep.” It was the first time she was recounting what had truly happened back in the Vault. She’d given Preston and Piper an abridged version of the tale, and she had to swallow a few times to get the words out. As she continued to speak, Ramona tried to push down the lump in her throat to no avail.

  
Nick narrowed his eyes. “The bombs, you say? You were alive… back then?” That would certainly explain her unusually unscathed appearance. Ramona just nodded with a tight-lipped frown, doing her best not to think about her life before the war. Before all of this. She was grateful that Nick and Ellie seemed to believe her, and didn’t seem as surprised as Piper had. Her lip was beginning to tremble, and Ramona didn’t think she’d be able to try and prove to them that she wasn’t lying.

  
“Yeah… I was born in 2053. I guess that makes me… 234 years old.” She sighed, and Valentine said nothing, while Ellie scribbled down some notes. “My husband Nate was… murdered. He was just trying to keep them from taking Shaun and they… they just…”

  
“It’s okay,” Ellie interrupted. “You don’t need to say anything more.” Ramona nodded quietly, grateful for the distraction. She couldn’t get the image out of her mind… her husband lying dead in the cryo pod, a single bullet wound to his chest.  
“They took my baby boy, Shaun. He’s less than a year old… It was a man and a woman. They didn’t say much, but I remember they called me… ‘the backup’ or something.”

  
“That confirms it,” said Nick with a grim tone. “This isn’t a random kidnapping- whoever took your kid had an agenda…hmm, let’s see…Super Mutants, Raiders, Gunners, and… have you ever heard of the Institute, Ramona?”  
“The Institute? I think Piper mentioned something…”

  
“Wouldn’t surprise me. They’re the boogeymen of the Commonwealth. Something goes wrong, everyone blames them. Easy to see why… those early model synths of theirs strip whole towns for parts, killing everything in their way. Then you’ve got the new models, good as human, that infiltrate cities and pull strings from the shadows. Worst of all, no one knows why they do it, what their plan is, or where they are. Not even me, and I’m a synth myself. A discarded prototype, anyway.”

  
“They discarded you?”

  
“Sure. I’m somewhere in between the older models that are dumb as rocks, and the newer models that are almost human. I think there’s some kind of security setting that’s blocking out any memories I might have of the Institute, though, but it’s not just me. Any synth that gets trashed, left behind, or escapes the Institute has the same problem. Probably some kind of failsafe.”

  
Ramona sighed in frustration. “So, we don’t have anything?” she asked, trying not to get too emotional. Getting upset wasn’t going to help her find Shaun.

  
“Don’t fret, we have a lead, and that is what you remember,” Valentine said quickly. “What did these kidnappers look like?”

  
She shut her eyes, bringing back that horrible mental image of when it had happened. At the time, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from her son and her murdered husband, but she described what she could remember. “One of them… one of them came right up to my pod. Bald head, scar across his left eye.”

  
Nick froze. “Wait. It couldn’t be… you didn’t hear the name ‘Kellogg’ at all, did you?”

  
“No, they didn’t say their names. Who is he?”

  
Nick rubbed his jaw, swirling the cold coffee in his mug with a spoon that had been lying on his desk. “It’s way too big of a coincidence… In this line of work, coincidences are a lead, and this sounds like a big one. Ellie, what notes do we have about the Kellogg case?”

  
Ellie scrambled over to the other desk by the corner, fumbling through some papers. “The description matches. Bald head, scar. Reputation for dangerous mercenary work, but no one knows who his employer is.”  
“And he bought a house here in town, right?” asked Nick, his suspicion rising. “And he had a kid with him, didn’t he?” Ramona’s eyes widened. That man had taken her baby… here?

  
“Yeah, that’s right,” said Ellie. “The house in the abandoned West Stands. The boy with him was around ten years old.” Ten years old… that was way too old to be her son, she thought disappointedly. Shaun was still a newborn.  
“Is he still here?” asked Ramona urgently.

  
“They both vanished awhile back, if I’m remembering right, but that house is still there…,” mused Nick. “Why don’t we take a walk over there, and see if we can snoop out where he went?”  
Nick stood and Ramona followed, her head spinning. “Stay here, boy,” she told Dogmeat, who whined but obediently curled up on the floor of the agency.

  
“I know that my baby’s alive… I know that he is,” she mumbled as she followed Nick back outside, through the doorway. He gave her a sympathetic look, but said nothing.

  
-

 

“Well, would you look at this? All of a merc’s favorite things,” said Valentine.

  
Ramona stepped inside the room, behind the wall. A concealed button under Kellogg’s desk had revealed a secret room, much to their surprise. The shelves were loaded with ammunition, gasoline, preserved food, weapons… She inspected the room. Right in the center, there was placed a particularly plush armchair with a table next to it, stacked with an assortment of items.

  
“Gwinett Stout Beer… bullets… and cigars. San Francisco Sunlights,” she observed, picking up the pack of cigars to read the name.

  
Nick looked up. “Now, that’s an interesting brand, must have been shipped in from the west coast. That’s a pretty long trip.”

  
“What do we do next, Nick?” asked Ramona. This search for her son seemed to be turning up nothing but dead ends.

  
“Well,” he said, meeting her gaze. “I think your first move is to get a couple hours of sleep. It will do wonders for your mind, and we can pick this up in the morning. What do ya say?” Ramona looked down at the cigar box in her hands and gave a deep sigh. She shoved the package into her pocket with Nate’s wedding ring, and followed him out of the room.

  
“Alright,” she said simply, too dejected about their lack of finds to argue with him.

  
They strolled around the stands back to the agency, and Ramona noticed the sun beginning to peak over the horizon, bringing the beginnings of the morning sky along with it.

  
She greeted Dogmeat with a faint smile as they got back to the agency, and the dog was eager to see her again, even though he had only been waiting there for an hour or so. Nick led her into a small bedroom on the far side of the agency, and she was too lost in thought to question where he was taking her.

  
“Now, I don’t think you have a place in town, so you’re welcome to stay here tonight- er, this morning. I don’t really sleep, or anything, Ellie got a bed in here for me as sort of a joke. I don’t need it, so consider it yours, Ramona.”

  
His eyes darted back and forth, refusing to meet hers for the first time. For once, she noticed that he had lost a spark of his previous confidence, and in different circumstances she could have laughed. Instead, Ramona threw her arms around him in a tight hug, feeling him freeze up at the action. Ellie had long since gone to bed, but Nick suspected that if she was awake to witness the exchange, she would have teased him relentlessly.

  
“Thank you, Nick. For everything.”

  
“It’s no problem,” he mumbled awkwardly, relaxing only when the woman pried herself from him and was curled up in the bed.

  
Nick Valentine left the bedroom, lighting up a cigarette and taking a seat at his desk to organize the notes. He listened to the people of Diamond City waking up to a new day, while the woman in the next room fell into a deep sleep, her hand grasping the wedding ring still in her pocket for comfort. His gaze lingered around his office, taking in his surroundings as if for the first time. He looked at the crooked paintings on the walls, and the messy file cabinet, and the cups of cold coffee that he had yet to clean out. He listened to the whirring of his old desk fan, and the slow breathing of the woman’s dog that was now resting in his office.

  
Nick’s eyes landed on the dog, taking in his sleeping form. His eyes narrowed as the beginnings of an idea began to form in his head, as he looked back and forth from the dog and the wall, where Ramona was sleeping on the other side just a few feet away.

  
-

  
“You think Dogmeat can track Kellogg down?”

  
“I think it’s worth a shot. Do you still have that box of cigars from the old merc’s house?”  
Ramona pulled them from her pocket. San Francisco Sunlights, the same as they were that morning. “Yeah, they’re right here. Do you think he can go off of just these?”  
“We haven’t got much of a choice.”

  
She paused, watching Dogmeat happily prance around the detective agency. He seemed to know that they were talking about him, and he awaited orders happily, his tail wagging back and forth. Nick was pacing back and forth around his office, scrambling to prepare a pot of coffee for his guest. Usually, he’d just have Ellie take care of it, but his secretary had left not long ago to let the Bobrov brothers and Travis know that Nick was back in town and no worse for wear.

  
“I don’t know about you,” Nick started, “but I don’t feel comfortable walking into a merc’s den, just the two of us. There’s no telling what Kellogg might have set up to defend himself… I’m thinking we need some extra help,” he thought aloud, pouring the steaming cup of coffee into a ceramic mug. He placed it on the desk before Ramona, who looked to have had a rather fitful sleep. Her hair was messy, her eye makeup smeared, and the blanket still wrapped comfortingly around her shoulders, as if it was the only thing protecting her from that terrifying, new world just on the other side of the door.

  
“You have anybody in mind?” she asked, picking up the steaming mug to blow over the surface of her hot coffee.

  
“Well… we are tracking a mercenary, after all. Who better than another mercenary can help us figure this mystery out? Plus, if Kellogg has anything on him like that arsenal we found inside that abandoned house- and I’m sure he does- then we could certainly use the extra protection.”

  
Ramona thought on his words for a minute, gazing into the dark liquid in her steaming mug. Nate had always liked coffee. He was sometimes grouchy in the morning, often waking before Ramona to get started on making a fresh pot. “Mornings are for coffee and contemplation,” he would say, making her roll her eyes and smile. After Shaun was born, Nate’s coffee schedule had been seriously impacted, much to his despair. Shaun would sometimes wake hours before sunrise, forcing Nate to-  
“So where can we find a mercenary, then?”

  
Nick watched Ramona carefully, noticing the faraway look in her eyes. Seeing Ellie approaching the agency from outside, he lowered his voice to a whisper.

  
“Goodneighbor.”


	2. Chapter 2

By the time that Ramona and Nick arrived in Goodneighbor, the Commonwealth sun hung low in the sky, threatening to sink below the horizon within only a few hours. They had left Diamond City around mid-morning, bidding Dogmeat and Ellie a temporary farewell. They had taken a slightly longer route up north across the Charles River and back around, across the bridge. Nick had told her that the walk would be a little longer, but the lack of super mutant encampments would certainly make up for the few extra miles, and Ramona eagerly agreed. Of all of the new creatures she had familiarized herself with upon waking up, deathclaws were the most horrid, with the super mutants being a close second. Just the sight of either creature was enough to freeze her blood and set her into a panic. If in some terrible twist of fate she were to die out here in the Commonwealth, she just didn’t want it to be at the hands- or claws- of a deathclaw or a mutant. Anything but a deathclaw or a mutant. Hell, she’d rather step off the side of the tallest building in Boston.

  
About a half hour before the pair closed in on the town, Nick made sure to warn her about the lunacy that was Goodneighbor.

  
“A town of misfits, is what it is,” he told her, frowning. “A lot of the townsfolk there either aren’t welcome or don’t fit in in Diamond City, so they go to Goodneighbor. Hancock is the Mayor over there- he’s quite the character.”

After a full thirty minutes of Nick’s tales of chem-peddling criminals from Goodneighbor and husbands escaping to Goodneighbor in search of chems and excitement, and other such lowlives, Ramona grew ever anxious by the minute. When they came into view of the town, Ramona noticed an array of brightly colored neon lights indicating the entrance. She just wanted to get in, hire a damn merc, and get out as quickly as they could, but even the outskirts of the city looked dangerous. They had to keep their heads low to avoid the attention of a group of Gunners, just several feet away from the gates.

  
“Try not to draw too much attention to ourselves,” Nick whispered to her.

  
As fate would have it, they wouldn’t be so lucky. Almost as soon as they stepped inside Goodneighbor, Nick and Ramona had already drawn said unwanted attention.

  
A rough-looking man who had been standing a few feet from the gates, leaning against the concrete wall had his eyes trained on them menacingly, as he silently puffed on his cigarette. Ramona tried to avoid eye contact, but the man was already slinking over to them, his ugly face twisted in something akin of a snarl. She glanced unsurely at Nick as the man approached him, the synth giving her a quick nod before they both turned to face the man.

  
“Well, well,” he growled, his voice rough. “It’s the detective. Tracking down another wayward husband to his mistress?”

  
“Why, someone stand you up?” Nick shot back, not missing a beat. Ramona fought back a grin.

  
The man didn’t find it so funny. “Tryin’ that, what d’ya call it? Evasive language, on me? And who’s the Vaultie, huh?” he questioned, turning his attention to Ramona. “Valentine’s new dick-in-training?”  
She glared at him. “What’s it to you?”

  
“Gotta know who’s backing who, here in Goodneighbor. I ain’t never seen you before. Maybe you’re in the market for a little… insurance?”

  
How stupid did this guy think they were? “Um… we’re not interested, but thanks.”

  
“I think we can handle ourselves,” agreed Nick.

  
The man made a tsk’ing noise with his tongue, shaking his head condescendingly at them. “Now come on,” he said. “Don’t be like that. Just hand over everything you got in them pockets, or ‘accidents’ start happinin’ to ya. Big, bloody, ‘accidents.’”  
“Woah, woah,” someone interrupted from behind the man. “Time out.”

  
Ramona looked up to see who’d interrupted them, and nearly did a double take. What was probably the most flamboyantly dressed ghoul she’d yet to see was sauntering over to the man, throwing up his hands dramatically. He was wearing a red frock coat that looked oddly familiar, with a tricorn hat atop his hairless head.

  
“Nick Valentine makes a rare visit to town, and you’re hassling his friend here with that extortion crap?” the ghoul hummed, shaking his head. “Good to see you again, Nick,” he said with a charming grin towards the detective.

  
“Hancock,” said Nick flatly. Ramona looked between the two. So this was the eccentric Mayor of Goodneighbor that Nick had mentioned earlier… but Nick had failed to mention that he was a ghoul. Still, he had an air of… suavity about him, that was for sure. She recognized his red frock at that moment- they were the clothes of the original John Hancock. She had seen them in a display case some number of years ago, but now the embellished coat looked frayed and dull. Even so, it stood out among everything else.

  
“What d’you care?” demanded the man. “He ain’t one of us, and neither is this Vault girl, here!”

  
“No love for your Mayor, Finn? I said let ‘em go.”

  
Finn snorted, as if that was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. “You’re soft, Hancock,” Finn accused. “You keep letting outsiders walk all over us, one day there’ll be a new Mayor!”

  
Ramona glanced warily at Hancock, whose black eyes had narrowed into a look of contempt. Clearly, Finn had struck a nerve.

  
“Come on, man. This is me we’re talking about,” growled Hancock, stalking closer to Finn threateningly. Finn looked as if he wanted to take a step back, but he stood his ground as Hancock got up in his face. “Let me tell you something…”  
Without warning, Mayor Hancock was stabbing Finn repeatedly in the chest, letting his dead body carelessly fall to the floor in a crumpled heap. Ramona’s eyes widened in horror at the display- Hancock simply turned around and gave a nod to his bodyguard, the redheaded woman leaning coolly against the wall, and the passing drifters just glanced at Finn’s corpse and shook their heads, carrying on with their business. Nick had told her that Goodneighbor was filled with lowlifes, but… she really hadn’t expected it to be this bad. The Mayor, of all people, killing people in the streets. Her mind barely registered Nick placing a protective hand on her shoulder, but not even that was enough to rouse her from her shock. She’d taken lives out here, but never someone who hadn’t shot at her first. It was usually raiders, faceless behind a mask and nameless, soulless. Afterwards, she’d try not to think about it, but this… this was different.

  
“Now why’d you have to go and say that, huh? Breaking my heart over here,” mumbled Hancock, before looking back up at Ramona, who was still standing agape at the scene. “You all right, sister?”

  
“You… you killed him,” was all she could manage, which earned a snort from him.

  
“Got a good pair of eyes on ya. I think you’ll fit in around here,” he said with an air of sarcasm. “Goodneighbor’s of the people, for the people, you feel me? Everyone’s welcome.”

  
“Of the people, for the people?” She repeated back to him, some of her confidence returning. “Sounds like anarchy to me.”

  
“Heh! I can tell I’m gonna like you already. Just consider this town your home away from home… So long as you remember who’s in charge. So, any reason in particular you two decided to stop by our little community, here?”

  
“We’re looking for a hired gun,” replied Nick, lighting a cigarette. Ramona wondered briefly if smoking relaxed him, or it was just for dramatic flair. “Got any recommendations, for us?”

  
Hancock rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Yeah, sure I do, sure I do. There’s a kid over at The Third Rail, but don’t let his age fool you- he’s one hell of a sharpshooter. MacCready’s his name. Kid’ll do just about anything for a pile of caps.”

  
“Thanks for the help, Hancock,” said Valentine quickly. “We’d best be on our way.” Hancock tipped the brim of his tricorn in response, giving them a short wave before slinking back over to the Old State House, towards his bodyguard.

  
“So… that’s Mayor Hancock,” she whispered to Nick once Hancock was out of earshot. “He didn’t have to kill the guy. I mean, he was being a total asshole, but he didn’t have to just… kill him.” She shook her head. She was starting to think that she would never get used to the strange ways of this world.

  
“He’s very, ah, bombastic, if you will. Suppose he likes to make an example of his dissenters. That’s Commonwealth justice for ya,” said Nick, frowning. “The days before the war may not have been perfect, but they at least had law to keep some semblance of order. Out here, it’s just chaos.”

  
Ramona raised an eyebrow, as they strolled over to the small marketplace area across from the Old State House. “How much knowledge does a, uh, synth such as yourself have about pre-war law, anyway?”

  
He looked at her, considering the question for a moment. “I know that the Institute made me look like some old bot, but I’ve got memories. From… from before. My memories, my personality, they’re all lifted from some cop who volunteered for an experiment, back before the war. They scanned his brain and copied it onto the hardware that runs between my ears. Don’t know why they chose to make a robot based on some pre-war cop instead of a math genius, or a bioengineer. Maybe that’s why they tossed me in the garbage, instead of turning me into one of their people snatchers.”

  
“Wait… so you have memories from my time?”

  
“Sure do. Which meant, when I finally ended up out here, it was quite the rude awakening. Suffice to say, it was a confusing couple of weeks.”

  
Ramona shook her head, laughing bitterly. “Can’t say I don’t know how that feels.” The whole thing was very strange. Everyone she’d met and talked to out here in the Commonwealth looked at her as if she was some kind of antique to be stared at and questioned relentlessly, although the blue jumpsuit probably didn’t help. Piper had said that she’d looked like a fish out of water. For some reason, with the knowledge that Nick had probably had the same feelings, the same bewilderment she’d felt after leaving Vault 111, she felt a warmth in her chest. This detective, who was helping her find her baby… he knew how she felt.

  
Nick seemed to catch her train of thought. “Sure feels like there’s a cliché in here somewhere,” he said, giving her a modest smile.

  
“It’s buried underneath all that terrible humor of yours,” she quipped back. Nick chuckled.

  
“You keep that talk up, Cooper, I might just start thinking we’re friends,” he said. A wide grin broke out onto Ramona’s face. She said nothing, just shaking her head, unable to wipe that dopey grin off her face.

  
“Why don’t we stock up on some supplies before looking for our sharpshooter friend? I don’t want to stay in this town any longer than I have to,” she admitted.

  
“Lead the way,” Nick replied faithfully.

* * *

  
“Do you know what it’s like? Being as old as ghoul?” asked the shopkeeper. Ramona had been looking to stock up her water and ammunition supply, but the charming ghoul behind the counter had gotten them chatting. Daisy was her name- over 270 years old, which had caught Ramona’s interest. While they were chatting, Nick had taken to giving himself a tour of the town.

  
“Actually, yeah. I do,” she replied, earning a skeptical laugh from the woman.

  
“Well, now you’re just making fun of me,” Daisy said. “If you were as old as I was, you would’ve been around since before the War!”

  
“A little over 230, actually,” Ramona insisted. “And I have been around since before the war.”

  
Daisy laughed again, clearly in disbelief. “So, let’s hear it. Tell me what the world was like before the War, if you’re so ancient.”

  
Ramona paused for a minute and considered her old life, a mental juxtaposition in her mind of the old world, and this new one she had found herself in. At a first glimpse into her memories, her old life was peaceful, and serene. A white picket fence, a shiny Corvega sitting in the driveway, the greenest grass you’ve ever seen… but at the same time, such sinister things were growing under that illusion of peace. Ramona had lost count of the number of days around her and Nate’s home in Sanctuary Hills- she’d been pregnant with Shaun, at home cleaning, or cooking, or studying, trying to tune out the horrible things she’d hear on the news channel. Riots breaking out in Denver because of the New Plague, wars over resources, the revelation of the FEV research and all its controversy, the annexation of Canada, the constant looming threat of nuclear war- always rumored, but she’d never honestly expected that it would happen. That fateful morning of October 23rd, 2077 was a nightmare that she’d never be able to wake up from. God, she could still hear that bomb going off over Boston in the back of her mind.

  
And now, here she was. The Commonwealth may be a huge pile of shit, but at least she didn’t have to deal with passive aggressive neighbors, or jealous coworkers. Out here, if someone didn’t like you, it was pretty easy to be able to tell, because they were probably shooting at you. In some strange twisted way, that was almost a comfort.

  
“The world before was nothing but petty governments going to war, dragging us into it, and shooting whoever refused to clean up the mess,” she spat harshly, earning some curious looks from the nearby drifters just looking for a bite to eat or a bed to sleep in.

  
Daisy nodded solemnly. “You know, I had a husband that was killed in the war with the Reds. They didn’t even tell me where he died… huh. Classified information, and all that.”

  
“I’m sorry about your husband,” Ramona said quietly. Daisy just shook her head, that coy smile creeping back onto her face.

  
“You know, if you haven’t already, you should check out the Hotel Rexford. There’s another pre-war Ghoul hanging around there.”

  
“I’ll try to stop by,” she said, genuinely interested in the idea. Maybe talking about the old world before the war would prevent her from forgetting it all. It was painful to talk about the way things used to be, but in a way, Ramona felt some sort of sick pleasure out of it all. She wished for nothing more every day than to just go back, to the way things used to be, where life was so simple and her biggest worry was about getting Shaun to bed on time. The perfect life, all ripped away from her in what felt like minutes.

  
She stared at the sleeve of her blue Vault suit, resenting its bright color and the painful memories it aroused. Reasoning that they most likely wouldn’t have been targeted so quickly by Finn if she had been wearing something a little more covert, she asked Daisy if she had any other clothes lying around that she could buy.

  
“I might have a few things,” Daisy said, checking her shelves. “Nothing too fancy, but it’ll cover your behind and draw less attention.” Within a few minutes she’d gathered some old jeans, a faded blue and orange flannel, and a brown leather jacket. After momentarily lamenting the fact that she couldn’t escape from the color blue, she bought them as well as some leather armor to discreetly strap on over her jeans and under the leather jacket.

  
With that, she finished up her purchase and backed away from the counter, accidentally bumping in to someone standing a foot or two behind. Ramona whirled around in alarm, only to see that it was a drifter.  
“Woah woah, lady,” he said with a sheepish smile.

  
“Oh, god, sorry about that!” she mumbled, her cheeks slightly reddening. “I should have been looking where I was going.”

  
She observed the man she’d bumped into, for some reason unable to shake the thought that he looked strangely familiar. His head was completely bald, and he wore a pair of sunglasses- other than that, completely unsuspecting. “Have we met before?” she asked carefully, doing her best not to stare.

  
The drifter just chuckled. “Nah, don’t think so. I’ve just got one of those faces, you know?” he glanced over at the market area where she’d just been standing before bumping so rudely into him. “I’d better get going, got some trading to do. You know, for trade stuff!”

  
Ramona nodded awkwardly and stepped away from him, a little mystified by that encounter. She changed into her new clothes and tucked the blue vault suit safely into her bag, as she couldn’t decide whether she should keep it or try and get a few caps out of it. Instead of making a decision, Ramona set her mind on looking for Nick, who’d wandered off earlier. She felt a little lighter than before- the blue Vault suit had been tight and uncomfortable, as it clung to every slope and curve of her body. Looser, plainer clothes felt much more natural, and she felt fewer stares on her back. After a few brief minutes of searching, she’d found Nick by the Hotel Rexford, apparently engaged in conversation with one of Goodneigbor’s residents. She approached, tuning in to their words.

  
“Nicky, you old dog, how has nobody put a bullet in you, yet? Aw, you need to come by, everyone would be so happy to see ya again!”

  
“Well, unfortunately I’m a bit busy at the moment, but I’d love to-” started Nick, but Ramona interrupted him.

  
“Oh come on, Nick. No self-respecting gumshoe such as yourself should keep his fans wanting,” she teased with a smile. “You should catch up with him for a bit, I can take care of business on my own.”  
Nick raised a metal brow in surprise. “Well well, almost didn’t recognize you there, kid. Decide to ditch the Vault getup, now?”

  
“Yeah, I think it was clashing too much with the red in my hair. This is much better, dontcha’ think?”

  
“Clashing, huh? And here I was thinking you were a blonde,” he mumbled, shaking his head. Ramona rolled her eyes. “I won’t leave ya to go in there yourself. Some of the mercenaries around here don’t exactly cut a fair deal.”  
She rolled her eyes. “What, don’t think I can handle it? I used to be a lawyer, you know. Besides, don’t you think that your negotiation skills might be a little… rusty?” she snickered at her own pun, while Nick sighed dejectedly.  
“Ever the smartmouth, aren’t ya? I’ll let you at it then, kid. Don’t get in too much trouble without me, alright?”

  
Ramona grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Nick.” They made plans to meet at the Hotel Rexford in the morning, as the sky was already darkening and being a Gen 2.5 synth, he didn’t exactly need rest like she did, and she made her way over to the Third Rail, checking the time on her Pip-Boy. She was interrupted by the screech of a crow, and she frantically looked all around her to see where the noise had come from. A couple of crows were perched atop the railing of the Old State House, staring at her with beady black eyes. She waited for them to scream again at her, but they stayed silent, simply staring.

  
Dismissing the birds, she glanced back down at her Pip-Boy and continued on. ‘10.31.2287. 8:56 PM’ it read, and she felt a twinge of sadness as she stepped inside the old subway station. Ramona and Nate had been looking forward to their first holiday season with their newborn son, Halloween being one of their favorites. Nate had surprised her with an adorable lion costume for Shaun to wear, and her lip trembled at the memory. Maybe they would be reunited in time for Shaun’s second Halloween, but that costume had likely been torn to shreds along with that old house back in Sanctuary Hills. She hadn’t even gone inside her old home yet, afraid of the ghosts there she might find.

  
Immediately after she closed the subway door behind her, the warm sound of jazz music washed over her, bringing with it a sense of lucidity. She only partially noticed a ghoul standing near the entrance of the stairwell, hearing nothing but the muffled tune drawing her in nearer and nearer. As if in a trance, she descended the stairwell into the bar and saw the singer- a dazzlingly beautiful woman in red.

  
_I see you lookin' around the corner_  
_Come on inside and pull up a chair_  
_No need to feel like a stranger_  
_'Cause we're all a little strange in here…_

  
Ramona obeyed the woman in red’s command and went further inside, unable to tear her gaze away from her. “Who is she?” she breathed to whoever it was that was standing next to her. It didn’t matter.

  
The drifter glanced at her in surprise. “You new around here? That’s Magnolia, the flower of The Third Rail. Magnolia and a bottle of bourbon- best way to drown your sorrows.”

  
_Have you got a history that needs erasing?_  
_Did you come in just for the beer and cigarettes?_  
_A broken down dream you're tired of chasing?_  
_Oh well, I'm just the girl to make you forget…_

  
Bewitched by Magnolia’s raven hair, and the way that her red dress shone in the spotlight, everything else melted away. She’d never taken a hit of Jet, or anything really, but she imagined that this was how it would feel. Ramona had always loved music, especially live performances, and she found herself drifting closer and closer to the bar.

  
_So we're glad you dropped by_  
_Come in and loosen up your tie_  
_Have a drink or maybe just one more_

  
Much to her surprise, the bartender she found behind the counter was not a person, but a Mr. Handy robot, appropriately hatted with a bowler. “Oi. You want a drink?” said the robot with a Cockney accent as she approached, seemingly disgruntled about something. Before she knew it, she had a whiskey neat in hand and was growing more placid by the second. She hadn’t taken a proper drink since she’d woken up from the Vault, and this was a rare opportunity to check out of reality for a moment, however brief it may be.

  
_But if you're searching for something_  
_To bring you comfort_  
_Oh well, I'm the one you're looking for_

  
“You know where I can find someone named… MacCready?” she asked after throwing back the glass. It burned as it went down, and the Mr. Handy behind the bar made a sound of annoyance.

  
“He’s in the back,” it said simply, gesturing with a robotic limb toward the VIP lounge at the far side of the bar. She grabbed what was left of her drink and stalked towards the back room, emboldened by the rush of the drink and the cool croon of the saxophone. Glancing down the hallway, she saw two intimidating looking men standing inside the lounged area bathed in red light, speaking to someone that she could not see.

  
“Can’t say I’m surprised to find you in a dump like this, MacCready,” growled one of the men, catching Ramona’s attention. She strained to listen, but Magnolia’s song drowned out much of their words.

  
_Now, is your motor running close to empty_  
_Or are you running from yourself?_  
_You thirsty for a brand new kind of pleasure_  
_Or are you hungry to be somebody else?_

  
She heard someone arguing with the two men, with a brusque and yet surprisingly boyish tone. She recalled Hancock commenting earlier on this MacCready’s age, but she hadn’t thought much of it. Ramona crept further into the room, trying to make herself seen without interrupting the testosterone-fueled argument.

  
_So sit down your pretty face_  
_You came to the right place_  
_Oh where every night starts once more…_

When the two men had apparently had enough, they stalked away, glaring at her as they stepped past. “Move aside,” grumbled one of them to her and she obeyed. Once they were gone, Ramona stepped fully into the lounge area, her eyes finally landing on MacCready.

  
_I'm telling you friend_  
_Your search is at an end_  
_'Cause I'm the one you're looking for…_

  
Ramona felt some of her assurance fading away as the song ended, and the spell was over. It was back in an instant though, as she and MacCready both sized each other up. He was glaring at her with blue eyes, clearly aggravated that she had walked in on the argument.

  
“Look, lady. If you’re preaching about the Atom, or looking for a friend, you’ve got the wrong guy. If you need a hired gun… then maybe we can talk,” he said, taking a cautious swig from his drink, his eyes never leaving hers.

  
Ramona narrowed her eyes. “That was the plan. Why don’t you tell me who those two guys were, first?” she asked, her voice more sounding more confident than she felt.

  
He snorted. “A couple of morons, looking to climb the ladder of success by stepping on everyone else on their way up. You shouldn’t be surprised, though. That’s how it goes, when you run with the Gunners.”  
“I’m interested in your services,” she said, “But it sounds like you’ve got some extra baggage. That can be dangerous.”

  
He sighed. “You have nothing to worry about. Those two are weaker than a housefly, and about half as smart put together. I don’t want the stink of Winlock and Barnes rubbing off on me and scaring away my business,” he muttered. “Now, what about you? How do I know I won’t end up with a bullet in my back?”

  
“You don’t,” she said simply. “That’s just a part of life around here, isn’t it?”

  
“Can’t argue with that,” he agreed, although his expression deepened into a frown. “What’s the job, then?”

  
At the question, Ramona’s eyes flashed. “I’m looking for someone. I’ve got a lead, but it may be dangerous. So, I need someone to watch my back. What do you say?”

  
He mulled over it for a few short seconds and then took another swig of his drink before settling his gaze back on her. “I’ll tell you what. Price is two hundred and fifty caps up front, and there’s no room for bargaining.” She studied him for a moment, thinking about his offer. She had about four hundred on her at the moment, and two-fifty caps would cut that amount significantly, but she’d already gotten all of the supplies they would need to hunt down Kellogg. Ramona thought that she could talk him down to two hundred, but she observed his dirty, torn duster and his features, so rugged for someone so young. God, he was probably only a year or two younger than her. She decided against it.

  
“Two-fifty it is,” she agreed, scrounging in her bag for the right amount and handing the man his payment.

  
“All right boss,” he said, tucking the caps away into his duster. “You’ve just bought yourself an extra gun. What’s the plan then?” MacCready asked, gesturing for her to take a seat on one of the two sofas in the lounge. She sat down, drink in hand, not commenting on her new title. He sat on the opposite sofa, keeping a respectable distance.

  
Thinking over her and Nick’s plan, Ramona decided that she wasn’t going to tell this guy the whole story. He didn’t need to know every little thing about her- he was there because he would be the extra edge they’d need in combat, and that was all.  
“Are you familiar with Nick Valentine?” she asked warily, finishing off the rest of her whiskey. She noticed him watching her unabashedly as she savored the drink, eyeing his own empty bottle of beer.  
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard of him. That synth detective over in Diamond City, right? What’s he got to do with this?”

  
“I’ve been working with him, trying to find my son, Shaun. He was kidnapped,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She avoided MacCready’s eyes as soon as she’d spoken, but she would have been surprised by the sudden emotion in them in response to her words. Transfixed by the patterns on the wall, Ramona missed entirely the look of sadness her words brought to MacCready’s face. His jaw tightened, his own eyes lowered in some unreadable emotion, but he said nothing.  
“We… we think that a man named Kellogg may have him, or at least know what happened to him. The thing is, he’s rumored to be incredibly dangerous. A mercenary, as you’d have it. Probably has an entire arsenal on him.”

  
MacCready rubbed his chin, taking in this new information. “Hold up… you said his name was Kellogg?”

  
She glanced up in surprise, finally looking him in the eye. “You’ve heard of him?”

  
“Sure have. That guy is pretty da- darn high up on the Gunners’ Most Wanted list. No one knew anything about how to track him down, though. Guy’s a total enigma. Sure hope you’ve got a good lead, boss.”  
Ramona raised a brow at his quick correction, but didn’t think on it for more than a second. “I hope so too… Nick, ah- Valentine and I managed to get into an old house he had and he had a bunch of stogies lying around, among other things. Valentine seems to think that my dog can latch on to the scent and show us where Kellogg is hiding,” she said, realizing how crazy that their plan probably sounded. Entrusting the entirety of their search to a dog didn’t sound like the ideal plan for tracking down a kidnapper, but it was all she had.

After he thought on it for a minute or two, MacCready nodded. “Alright, then. When do we leave?”

  
Ramona almost sighed in relief that he didn’t argue, but realized that for the right number of caps, this guy would probably run with whatever crazy, futile plan she had thought up, but she really thought that this could work. It had to work. “First thing in the morning,” she decided aloud, getting to her feet. “Meet me by the marketplace just before dawn. I want to hunt down that bastard as soon as I can.”


End file.
